


And he talked and talked and talked through the night

by toitsu



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Hobbit Kink Meme, Incest, M/M, Prompt Fill, non-con is a pretty word for rape, siblings who can't stand each other, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toitsu/pseuds/toitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for this prompt on Hobbit kink meme: </p>
<p>Can I have the two brothers absolutly hating each other all their lives. They always fought with each other and etc...</p>
<p>One day, during a fight, things get extremely heated and physical. The boys fight, but Fili, being the older, stronger and bigger brother, overpowers his baby bother and then forces himself on him?</p>
<p>Total non con (Kili does not want it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And he talked and talked and talked through the night

**Author's Note:**

> I tried my best okay. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Title from a song 'Devil in Mexico' by Murder by Death

i.

 

Teeth on your skin don't alarm you, as your brother has always used anything, even the dirty tricks, to get the better of you – you have no room to judge, though, as you are exactly the same.

 

Teeth don't alarm you, but a swipe of something wet along your neck _does_.

 

ii.

 

You are somewhere in your twenties, and your mother despairs. You don't get along – you won't agree on anything (except that everybody else should stop poking their nose in your business), you will fight, verbally and (more often) physically, you will happily ignore each other, you won't share anything with the other.

 

_Let them be,_ Thorin advises his sister, _let them fight it out, it's a phase, they will grow out of it._

iii.

 

You never do.

 

iv.

 

Fili pinns you down and you don't like it, the vise grip on your wrists, knees aside your hips. This is nothing out of the usual here - the older one, stronger, restraining the younger, ending another fight - but there's something that is slightly off, something that doesn't follow script – Fili's hair that brushes your cheeks as he leans in, the way he keeps you pinned to the ground.

 

But you don't fear his fists.

 

(You don't anticipate his tongue.)

 

v.

 

You and Fili are somewhere in your fifties (still very young, but not small children anymore) and you have not, as your uncle hoped, grown out of animosity towards each other.

 

'Snap out of it, for Mahal's sake', he growls at you two, struggling to keep you apart, 'You are brothers!'

 

He could be talking to rocks, for all either of you listen to him – teeth barred, fingers parody of claws – struggling from his grip, you lunge at your brother. He strikes back.

 

vi.

 

Your body trembles and thrashes beneath his; his mouth assaults yours, so you bite him. _Let go,_ you order, _what's fucking wrong with you,_ you would say more but he neither lets you go nor explains himself, just tries to, to _kiss_ you again.

 

You don't know what madness possessed him, but you don't want this. Whatever strange fire alights his eyes, you don't want to bear the burns of it.

 

There is a whimper you don't register coming out of your throat, but he does, catches it, traps it between your mouths.

 

vii.

 

A sunrise, many years ago, on a mountain side. You sneaked off and found him already there, gazing somewhere far away, a small fire warming his back. He turned for a moment, regarded you, then shifted back again.

 

You sat in the silence for hours, and this is the most peaceful memory you have of him.

 

( _You are brothers!,_ deep, exasperated voice drones and drones, and in this moment you can almost believe it.)

 

viii.

 

You want to remind him. That you are blood and kin, that there is a history between the two of you that could never amount to him placing his hands beneath your shirt and bringing you pleasure.

 

You'd remind him, if your mouth weren't gagged; you'd remind him, if you weren't feeling so sick of things he whispers across your skin.

 

_Pretty,_ he says, _my pretty little brother, don't you know how they look at you, pretty little thing._

_Useless,_ he says in the same breath, _useless, struggle all you want but it's useless, you're useless._

ix.

 

You might've had liked him. Looked up to your older brother, shadowed his steps and begged for his love.

 

x.

 

You won't cry, no matter what he does.

 

(Because you are not weak and you are not useless and you are not his pretty little thing)

 

(Even if you can't free yourself from his grasp)

 

There is a keening sound that _can't_ escape your throat as he forces himself in, in – into the body that doesn't want him, and you feel yourself tear, you feel the pain, and small part of you is grateful, because you would never, never forgive neither him nor yourself if anything he does brings you an ounce of pleasure. 

 

The floor is cold and rough against your cheek, as he presses into you – as he finds the rhythm that makes you blink rapidly and clench your teeth as hard as you can on the cloth in your mouth – you won't cry, you won't cry, you _won't cry_ as he finds breath to whisper dirty lies in your ear.

 

xi.

 

You will not have a fratricide tied to your name (and you won't let anyone know of the shameful things he did to you)

 

(And the way his mouth twists in sneer tells you he knows).

 

But you will join your uncle's quest; you will brave the dangers and prove yourself. You will suffer his company and prove yourself. Prove Thorin you are worthy of being his heir; you will guard your uncle's side and face the dragon, and anything else you might encounter on the road.

 

And when all is said and done…

 

(you will not watch his back.)

 


End file.
